


Operation F.U.N.

by TerminusVerso



Series: Requests [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, Coffee, Dream is a creep, Gen, Imprisonment, Mild Blood, Minor Dadmare, Minor Injuries, Partially uncorrupted Nightmare, Playdates, Weirdness, and wow all these tags look horrible together, fluffy sweaters, rainbows and evil, unlikely friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:20:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26214004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerminusVerso/pseuds/TerminusVerso
Summary: Nightmare is captured by the Star Sanses and forced to live in his own personal hell to become "a better person." Unfortunately for the trio, this king refuses to go down without putting up a fight. He will cause mischief. He will cause mayhem. And, he will make them cry as many times as possible for daring to trap him in his rainbow prison.
Relationships: Nightmare & Dream, Nightmare & HomicideError
Series: Requests [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1903987
Comments: 7
Kudos: 74





	1. Captured and Dangerous

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BookwyrmFinallyGotAnAccount](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookwyrmFinallyGotAnAccount/gifts).



> A requested story pulled from my book " _Collection of Oddities_ ," so it will be easier to locate in the future.

Footsteps beat against the ground- a lighter pair pursued by a set of three heavier ones. Local scenery flew by in the blink of an eye. Veil after veil of snowflakes danced along the howling winds, creating a blinding white haze. Snow-coated pine trees and shrubbery blurred from the sheer speed of the running monster: A slivery-boned skeleton, whos chaser were relentless. A viscous black ooze desperately clung to his being, caught in a perpetual cycle of dripping off his bones only to clasp back on; Two limp tendrils made from the substance trailed behind him. If one gazed upon the monster's face, they would see an odd cross between fright and a hateful scowl. 

Nightmare, the Guardian of Negativity, was the fleeing skeleton. A great fury only comparable to the one that plagued him in Dreamtale raged within his being. It burned in his soul and chest, festering like a planet-devouring sun hellbent on consuming the Earth with flame. Thought, despite the rise in internal negativity, he could not bring forth more power or repair his dark armor. How did this come to be? Dream, his self-proclaimed 'brother,' enlisted Sci to help 'fix' him. Meaning, the godforsaken scientist used the opportunity to create a device that would forcibly revert Nightmare to his uncorrupt form. The form of a _weak_ , _helpless child_. It worked. Partially. Nightmare's true appearance was revealed for all to see. (What he would give to go back and slap that pleased smile off Dream's face.) However, the black ooze refused to recede entirely. (The crestfallen expression the other wore nearly made up for his damned positivity.) It was a part of him; Dream was a fool for thinking otherwise, and forcibly attempting to separate him from himself.

_If only my negativity wasn't so useless right now!_ Nightmare growled at the thought. He hated it, feeling so defenseless and easy to kill. It drew out the old insecurities and fears buried beneath a layer of negativity. 

_I swear if I ever get my hands on Sci - or Red, he'd be a good bargaining chip - I will show them a force more frightful than negativity and death combined!_

Of course, the forced shift in appearance and power was not the sole cause of his rage. Dream isolated him from his boys- Dust, Killer, Horror, and Cross. _And_ , threw each of them into different AUs, which were notoriously dangerous and difficult to escape from unscathed. Apparently, in the guardian's twisted, delusional mind, they were a 'bad influence'; Demons sent by Satan himself to ensure Nightmare stayed on the path of evil. A ludicrous notion by all means. Killer could be intimidated by a pickle jar. Cross had a cow phobia. Dust feared any and every spider (Muffet's fight was quite traumatic in his AU). Horror cried whenever he saw a trash can because ' _Nightmare, how can they be so heartless and throw away perfectly good food_.' His boys- Despite being cold-blooded murderers and advocates of negativity, they had the mentality of a man-child. If anything, Nightmare was a 'bad influence' on them. 

Suddenly liquid chains shot past the trees, knocking him roughly to the ground and pinning his body against the snowy surface. He squirmed and struggled. However, the black ink bindings merely tightened with each movement. 

_Funk!_

Nightmare's pursuers' footfall grew ever closer; The sound nigh thunderous in his invisible ears. Frantic beating from his dark soul shook his rib cage. He could _not_ allow the Star Trio to catch him. Given the circumstances, though, he may not have a choice. The chains tightened further with every additional thrash, squeezing around his body until the world began fading to black. As the world slowly dissipated, a hysterical voice sounded, "Ink, I told you to be gentle with him!" _  
_

"Wait, you did? Who are we chasing again? I forgot."

Two exasperated sighs followed, and then Nightmare heard no more as his consciousness got devoured by darkness. 

* * *

Nightmare awoke gradually, and groggily with a sharp tingle nipping at certain spots on his bones. It burned as if someone tore a layer of bone off and poured lemon juice on the wound. A pained hiss escaped. At the noise, something - likely someone - next to him started; The mattress beside him shifted, and a tiny bit of the pain vanished. It took some effort, but he managed to force his eye sockets open. Bright neon and pastel shades invaded his vision. A sparkling eyesore of rainbow stretched across the ceiling, running down the connecting wall. This room- Either his boys decided to play a sick prank him, or this was not his regal dwelling. Nightmare squinted and mumbled, "Where?" 

"Nighty!" 

_Dream! That means-_ "Ugh, I'm in hell." He groaned, wincing when moving a hand to his face. 

"No, brother, you're in the Star Council's rehabilitation ward." The obnoxious, yellow-clad guardian sat next to the bedside; Positivity oozed off his being and brightened the disgustingly happy smile on his jaws. The hand closest to Nightmare held a blackened washcloth. A bucket of murky water was on the nightstand a foot to the left. As he stared, he noticed a chunk of corruption floating on the water's surface. _Dream- that sick creep has been tearing off my magic!_ The slivery-boned skeleton was disgusted by the realization. _That_ explained why bones stung in certain spots. 

Shifting in the opposite direction, he growled, "Anywhere with _you_ is hell. And, considering your friends are likely here, that must make this purgatory!" 

Dream merely sighed and grabbed ahold of the nearest arm, pulling it closer. The wet, magic-tainted rag got threateningly close to a patch of negativity on the appendage before Nightmare snatched it back. Clutching the arm against his chest, he hissed, "Knock it off! The hell do you think you are doing?!"

"Just cleaning up the last of the corruption."

"Well, don't- If I were a mortal animal, you would be skinning me alive!"

Dream rolled his eyelights and waved a hand dismissively. "You're exaggerating." 

The skeleton foolishly attempted to wipe away the gunk once more. 

"Continue down this path, and I will find a way to transform you into a human solely to tear every strip of flesh off you." Nightmare threatened, enjoying the slight paling of the guardian's face. 

* * *

Dream departed at six O'clock in the afternoon- but not before trying to battle Nightmare's goop with that godforsaken washcloth, giving up when Nightmare violently snatched it and shoved it in his mouth. The sheer revulsion on Dream's face was a delight. And watching the other attempt to wipe the viscous substance off his tongue was even better. However, that was two hours ago; Those hours felt like an eternity. This childish, colorful hellscape held nothing to amuse the King of Darkness. The sinfully babyish bookcase displayed infantile book (bedtime stories, coloring books, and the like), without a single decent read among them. It was absurd. A waste of space and a disgrace to literacy. 

That, though, wasn't even the worst part: Stuff animals- plush creatures of all shapes, sizes, species, and colors surrounded him, watching with their beady black eyes. Nightmare would not admit it to anyone, not even his boys, but dead yet lifelike toys creeped him out. They looked like they would drag him into a rainbow and never allow him to leave. A shudder slid down his spine. _Torture, this must be a new form of torture. How could anyone - except for the insane - choose to live like this._ He glanced at yet another staring plush before fully turning away. 

_Next chance I get, I should find a sharp object and chop their heads off._ _Leave them for the Stars to find._

Nightmare's evil plotting was interrupted by a _click_ from the door handle. The gateway leading beyond his neon-pastel prison pushed open, revealing none other than _Blue_. 

Nightmare glared and hissed, "What do you want?" 

"Mweh-he-he, the magnificent Blue has come to read you a bedtime story of friendship!" The blue-clad skeleton grinned and produced a 'Fluffy Bunny' book from his inventory. Added more subtly after was, "Dream would do it in my stead, but he is still trying to wash the corruption out of his mouth."

_Oh, heck no, you are not doing_ that _to me!_

That damned children's book would _not_ be read to him, Nightmare, the Lord of Darkness. His situation was demeaning enough already. But how to escape the torture? Glancing around the colorful hellscape, he found his eyes drawn to an unopened box of crayons. A devilish grin crossed Nightmare's skull as an idea came to mind. _  
_

"Hey, Blue, how about I read _you_ a story?"

"And then Fluffy Bunny _died_. The End!" He concluded, using the red crayon to draw 'X's over the cartoon rabbit's eyes and add gruesome details. Blue, who was tied to a wooden chair with a rainbow jump rope, sobbed silently. Big blue tears dripped from his unlit eye sockets. Nightmare made sure to lean closer so the other could get a good look at the picture's gory additions. The negativity received in return was delectable. Please with his work, he tossed the book on the floor and freed Blue from his bindings. The potentially traumatized skeleton immediately bolted, dashing across the room and throwing the door open before slamming it shut and locking it. Soon heartbreaking wails sounded on the other side. His grin's corners quirked up a fraction further. If they were going to make him miserable, then he'd return the favor tenfold. Nightmare wandered over to his bed and laid down, relishing the negativity in the atmosphere. 

_I guess children's stories can be fun._

"Nightmare, what did you do?!" Dream's scolding voice echoed from the adjacent room. _  
_

_Heh. Still worth it._

* * *

Nightmare stirred in the middle of the night. He tossed and turned in the overly fluffy bed, unable to get comfortable; Plagued by the overwhelming feeling that something was watching him. His eye sockets cracked open and- "Gah!" 

The Dark Lord threw out a hand, knocking away a beady-eyed stuffed animal that was certainly not there when he went to bed. 

_I'd much rather wake up to Killer watching me sleep. Not one of those things._

Glancing at the other plush creatures, he pulled the equally plush and colorful blanket over his head; as he did so, one thought came to mind: _This sucks. I hope the boys save me soon._


	2. Hugs and Lunch

The next few days were an ordeal; A very unpleasant ordeal, at that. Ink had popped by every so often and attempted to coerce him into painting a colorful scenery. The artist yielded all efforts after being presented with an 'interesting' piece. Nightmare, being the Lord of Darkness and Nightmares that he was, decided to get back at him via a morbid painting of the Ink himself murdering Error. It was not well-received. Ink freaked out upon seeing it, threw up his namesake, and fled while repeating, ' _I have to find him!_ ' He'd been avoiding Nightmare ever since. Likewise with himself, as the avoidance was mutual. The whole situation- Everything didn't settle right after that, especially considering Error was still MIA and had been for a while.

Dream and Blue attempted to give him 'friendship lessons' and force him to participate in 'tea parties.' The parties, though, ended after Nightmare either threatened someone with a tea cake or listed horrible ways to kill and/or poison someone. Their expressions were priceless, mainly after he informed them of the toxicity of their favorite fruit and tuber. Blue balked at the news that tomatoes could, in fact, be deadly. (During a specific stage of growth and in a large quantity. However, they did not need to know that little detail.) He ruined potatoes for them in a similar fashion. Along with the tomato, it was a recognized member of the nightshade family; Bore a fruit reminiscent of a cherry tomato, which was ill-advised to consume. Neither skeleton would be able to view ketchup or mashed potatoes the same. 

Today, however, Nightmare faced a set of different, arguably more obnoxious trials. 

"Dream," Nightmare growled, warningly. His eyelights narrowed at the fluffy, pink/purple-colored atrocity the guardian presented him. The cheery grin on the other's face made him want nothing more than to slap it off and watch him cry. " _no_."

The overly positive skeleton pouted, staring at him with big puppy-dog eyes. "But you haven't even tried it on yet! And it's so snuggly- like a constant hug!"

"Are you sure this absurdity isn't a new form of torture? This feels like a new torture method." The Guardian of Negativity spat as he stepped back a few paces, gazing at the offending article with suspicion. He could not fathom why someone would want an amaranthine embrace. 

_It would be like another living creature eternally invading my personal space._ Nightmare gave it a brief yet considering look. _Maybe I should keep it and make the boys wear it when they misbehave; What better punishment than to feel like an invisible being is affixed to you? Like a foe who's forever stalking you, and no matter how far you run, you can not escape._

_...No._ _  
_

_I'll burn it later. No one deserves that level of punishment._ _  
_

A sigh sounded in the disgustingly cheery-themed room. Dream ceased all attempts to guilt Nightmare into wearing the sweater and pulled it close to his chest. Then, with all the sincerity he could muster, said, "I swear, Nightmare, it is not torture in any way, shape, or form. Why can't you trust me on this?"

"A likely story- Besides, since when are you a good judge of character. Those villagers you befriended were not the noblest or kindest of people." The silvery-boned skeleton laughed humorlessly. "In fact, one could argue that they couldn't grasp the concept."

His opposite flinched, peering down at the ground as if he wanted nothing more than for it to swallow him whole. Silence stretched between them. Neither spoke. Neither tried. Eventually, Dream fled with his metaphorical tail between his legs, leaving Nightmare to stew alone in his happy little hell until lunchtime. 

Lunch was an easy-going affair. Uneventfully, at the most- That was until a particular yellow-clad skeleton made it his life's goal to pester Nightmare. Said dark lord begrudgingly sat in a colorful plastic chair with a sippy cup of pink lemonade; A plate of smiling sandwiches laid before him. It was primarily untouched. He'd eaten a variety of different foods over the years, but eating something highly reminiscent of a face was a line he dared not cross. Dream, the horrid creep born from the same tree as him, seated himself on the opposite side of the table. The very ugly, plastic rainbow table. 

And Nightmare had more than enough of his incessant chattering, well-meant questions, happy attitude, and brilliant smile. 

Glaring at the walking, talking ray of sunshine, he growled, "You are _killing_ me with 'kindness'; I demand you stop!"

"What's the magic word?" Dream said in an irritatingly sing-songy voice. 

"Shove a _%$@* &_ up your _# &@_!"

The Guardian of Positivity paled and scooted his chair back ever-so-slightly. " _Ooookkay..._ 'Please.' The magic word is 'please.' We'll- uh, let's work on proper manners later."

Dream then poked at his food for a while before fleeing once more. A smirk crept onto Nightmare's skull as he watched the happy-go-lucky skeleton leave due to discomfort.

* * *

Another night came and went, taking another portion of Nightmare's sanity with it. His saintly patience was running out. Fast. He hoped his boys would rescue him by now, but there was nay glimpse of them to be seen or found, which led to many worries about their wellbeing. Dust, Killer, Horror, and Cross could hold their own, but for how long? Were they hurt? Dead? Were they still trapped in separate AUs? Did they escape? If so, did they not know where Nightmare was trapped? The Lord of Darkness loathed not knowing the status of his boys. Curse Dream, and his stupid idea to separate him and his boys.

As the day continued, it merely got worse. After yesterday's trials, Nightmare thought his imprisonment couldn't get any more damning. He was wrong.

Blue skipped into the hellish room half passed noon with important news. At first, he hesitated to speak and stood far away from the darker before moving a single step closer and quietly relaying the message. "Hey, Nightmare, a guest is coming over today."

The Lord of the Night eyed Blue, skeptically. "What kind of guest?"

"Oh, well, I'm glad you asked! A friend from Aftertale needs us to babysit someone for the day. Apparently, everyone else refused to look after him." The blue-clad skeleton added the last sentence as a whisper. However, Nightmare heard him regardless.

"Hell will freeze over before I agree to watch a _child_."

"Come on, Nightmare! It will be a good learning experience. Plus, you might even become friends!"

A growing dread ached in his chest at a sudden realization. "No, no, no- you did not set me up on a playdate, did you?!"

Blue shuffled his feet nervously, glancing down at the ground instead of Nightmare; A gloved hand twitched before creeping upward to scratch at his neck. "Err, well, if it makes you feel better, I think you two will get along perfectly fine. The monster coming over- He has an acquired sense of humor, like you. Not to mention, he tried to stab Ink and Dream and me. So, try? To be nice? Please." 

The day crept on painfully slowly. An agonizing hour later and the Star Sanses' new charge arrived. Though Nightmare got permission to exit his room and 'learn the niceties of interacting with another monster,' he remained there. Yes, this was an opportunity to scope out an area other than the colorful-themed room. The silvery-boned skeleton, however, refused to yield to Dream or Blue's efforts. He would not participate in a _playdate_. His physical appearance may be that of a child, but he was not about to start acting like one. And certainly not after the most positive of them all attempted to coddle him.

Unfortunately, Nightmare had to admit the 'guest' sounded very interesting. Curse words and crashes echoed from the outer room the moment they arrived; Often followed by the scolding of Dream or Blue, while Ink encouraged the other's violent behavior, which ended with him being scolded as well. The temptation to get to know this mysterious monster grew. Nightmare struggled to ignore it. This monster- they could be a great addition to his team. Plus, his boys had been begging him for another brother. It would be a win-win... if not for the fact Dream would perceive the event as a small victory. He very well couldn't give the creep that, now could he? As the saying went, 'give them an inch, and they'll take a mile.'

_Bang!_ His prison's door flung open, and a figure rushed in. A skeleton with a crazed grin, dressed like he successfully mugged Geno and lived to tell the tale. (A impressive feat. The second Aftertale Sans was notoriously brutal during combat; Known for giving Death himself a run for his money.) Nightmare could only watch in bewilderment and shock as the skeleton saw a unicorn plush and proclaimed, "Stabbed horse!"

"The funk?!", slipped passed the negative guardian's jaws. Who was this skeleton? Why were they referring to a unicorn as a 'stabbed horse'? And, how mentally sound were they?


	3. Insults and Destruction

A second passed before the intruder - and, hopefully, savior - noticed his presence in the room. He turned to Nightmare and blinked a few times as if the notion of a person residing here was absurd; To be fair, it was. The Guardian of Negativity would sooner choose to live in a musty, filthy alleyway in Underfell then this rainbow hell. His unwarranted visitor openly stared at him, looking over every detail with a calculating eye. The foreign eyelights lingered on the two limp tendrils attached to his lower back. Then they slowly moved up, inspecting every detail, until they reached his face. And- The stranger doubled over and started laughing hysterically. Nightmare had never felt more insulted. Did this monster not know who he was?! How dare he laugh in the face of Nightmare- The Lord of Darkness and Guardian of Negativity?!

He bristled and puffed up, which made the monster laugh even harder. 

"Ha! The look on your face," The strange skeleton chuckled, wiping a tear from their eye socket. "priceless. Yo- you... Heh-he, you look like a tiny angry kitten!"

Before the dark guardian could formulate a threat in response, a yellow blur burst into the room. The blur - now still enough to be distinguished as Dream - positioned himself between Nightmare and the insolent intruder. A deep scowl rested on his skull. Glancing down, Nightmare noticed the other had something grasped tightly in one hand. It was... a spray bottle? 

_Woah. Dream has truly lost his mind. What on earth does that idiot expect a spray bottle to do to a skeleton?_

The two fools had a staredown; Each waiting for the other to make the first move. The tension between them was palpable. A hostile aura sparked to life as the seconds passed. The Guardian of Positivity made his move, breaking the silence with a few words, "Homicide," Dream's tone held the scolding of an enraged, overprotective mother. "leave my brother alone!" 

_Homicide_ , Nightmare thought. _Interesting. So that is the name of the monster who dares to mock me. Given the title and outfit, perhaps he does come from an Aftertale... Though, I was unaware there is more than one. Did Ink create another? Surely not. Geno would kill him if he did that._

_I wonder, would he have the same weaknesses? I should test that theory; Get back at him for laughing in my face._

The skeleton in question wore a brief look of shock. When Dream lifted the spray bottle and aimed it at him, it shifted to utter hatred; Nightmare could feel the strength of the emotion perfectly. Such potent negativity was no doubt afflicting the positive guardian. Then, with speed only seen harnessed by a hyper Underswap Sans, Homicide dashed out of the room, hissing and screeching like a demon crawling out of hell. Dream rushed out after him, declaring, "If you don't start behaving, I will tell After to extent the 'no TV' punishment."

The door slammed shut behind him, leaving the Lord of Darkness to his own devices. He stood silently and listened to the ensuing chaos. 

"Homicide- No, no, no, anything but the vase!"

_Crash!_

"Dream, are you destroying things?!" Ink, for some odd reason, asked excitedly.

"Ugh! No, Ink. Why can't you just drop that?"

"Dream is lying! He's breaking everything in here!" The following racket sounded like a symphony of shattering porcelain.

Nightmare smirked. The Star Simpletons would be distracted for quite a while if the anarchy beyond the door was any indication.

It was time to plot his revenge. 

The slivery-boned skeleton sat on the edge of the overly fluffy bed and pondered, _what is the best way to get revenge?_ To his knowledge, Homicide was an Aftertale Sans- a very deranged, violent Aftertale Sans; The Geno of the AU. However, where did he come from? A plethora of alternate universes existed. The likelihood his foe hailed from a Classic timeline gone wrong was slim. And, in the event that he did, there could still be enough variations to alter the entire AU; any number of things could be different- Whether it be the core AU or the way events transpire. That made Nightmare's goal harder, as it would be impossible to discern the other's weaknesses without getting to know him. 

_Wait- That's it!_

The perfect, most ingenious plan: Nightmare would befriend this skeleton, learn his weaknesses, and use them against him to exact his revenge. 


	4. Plots and Playdates

Sometime later (after the chaos settled), Nightmare enacted the first step in his plan: Getting Blue to set up a formal meeting for him and Homicide. Or, as the imbecile called it, a 'playdate.' Everything went smoothly. More so than anticipated. Blue said nothing about the 'playdate' to Dream; Likely content keeping it to himself or afraid of inciting another impromptu, gory bedtime story. He had half-expected the cerulean blabbermouth to burst from excitement and tell the entire Multiverse. His reputation as the vilest, most frightful creature in the Multiverse would be in ruins if such a thing came to pass. Luckily, Nightmare didn't have to worry about that at the moment. Revenge was his main priority. And, if Blue got the bright idea to go behind his back and soil his reputation- well, the Star Sans would not like the outcome. 

With that handled, now all the dark aura-ed skeleton needed to fret about was dealing with that impudent fool, _Homicide_. The other was the wild-card of all wild-cards, vastly unpredictable and put the 'danger' in 'dangerous.' Their meeting could go one of two ways: successful or wrong to the point Nightmare would have to fight off the other. He greatly hoped for the former. His current state handled combat poorly, and he only had so much magic to spare. (All thanks to that annoying imbecile, Dream.) Not to mention, the whole point of setting up a stupid 'playdate' was to 'befriend' Homicide and discover his weaknesses, which would be impossible if the lunatic wants to kill him. And an utter waste of Nightmare's effort if it were to fail. 

A gentle knock sounded from the direction of the door, likely Blue with his soon to be 'friend.' The Guardian of Negativity smirked. 

_Time to put my ingenious plan into action._

The hellish, color-laden prison's door handle turned before a living force pushed the barrier open from the other side. Once agape, Blue and Nightmare's foe, Homicide, were revealed to be standing in hall connected to the cheery room. Homicide, from what he could tell, looked less than pleased by the situation. An expression of discontent sat on his skull- teeth turned down, eyes narrowed in Nightmare's direction. One would assume the other was angry. However, the second Guardian of Emotions knew better than to jump to conclusions. The emotions radiating from Homicide told a completely different story. Mild irritation (at Blue), curiosity, pride, and mischievousness swelled in him. _  
_

_Perfect_ , Nightmare thought. _His own curiosity toward me will be an aid in his downfall._

The bloody-jawed Sans cautiously stepped into the room. Promptly after beyond the threshold, Blue swiftly slammed the door shut with a near incomprehensible, "Okay, you two have fun, don't kill each other, bye!" _  
_

" _Rude_." Homicide grumbled.

Nightmare found that he agreed with that sentiment. The Star Sans could have stayed for a moment longer and given them a proper introduction, at the very least. But instead, he fled with his tail between his legs. 

An awkward silence fell upon the room. The two skeletons had somewhat of a stare-off, using the opportunity to inspect each other. Homicide's white eyelights bore into his bones as he continued to search for a sign of _something_. What that something was, Nightmare had no clue. A few uncomfortable seconds later, he decided to take a civil approach and broke the deafening quiet. "Homicide, was it?" 

The other crossed his arms and huffed. "Unfortunately. Even though I'm the first Geno, I can't have that moniker because some filthy glitch claimed it before me!" An evil grin spread across his face before he quietly added, "But he can't keep it if he is dead."

Nightmare felt his eye sockets narrow. "I think I'm starting to understand why they have you here..."

"My charm and good looks?" Homicide questioned with a cocky smirk. 

His jaw nearly dropped in disbelief. Surely, the monster was not conceited enough to believe that. "What- No, You're crazy."

The bloody skeleton snickered and struck a dramatic pose. "Crazy good-looking?"

"Ugh, you are impossible." Nightmare groaned, rolling his eyelights. 

Homicide dropped the pose and smiled, rubbing his chin with one hand. "Impossibly handsome, you mean."

In his mental space, Nightmare completed the equivalent of sighing and facepalming simultaneously, wondering in abject fear: _Oh, stars, what horrors have I brought upon myself?_

Despite the rocky start, the evening went fairly well- So well, in fact, that Nightmare completely forgot about his brilliant plan. He was too caught up in chatting with the crazy skeleton to even consider it. They talked and talked, up until it was time to part ways for the night.

Darkness fell upon the sky as the sun had long since set, stars danced and shimmered along the blackish-blue horizon- Not that Nightmare could see it. His room, unfortunately, lacked windows. That fact merely served to sour his mood further. A glass-covered opening would make for the perfect escape route or, at the very least, give him something less repulsive to look at. The dark guardian's eye sockets narrowed at the multicolored mobile dangling from the ceiling above him. It was ridiculous, infantile; Exactly like everything else in his prison. He loathed it. A window - even if impassible and secured with magic proof iron bars - would be a blessing. How he wished for a little peek into the real, unfanciful world. But, knowing Dream, he would have had Ink put a colorful faerie garden or unicorn-housing forest outside. Probably a few permanent rainbows too. Thus, ruining a perfectly good view with childish whimsy. It would undoubtedly be the inspiration for every fantasy-related air-brush painting worn by vans across the Multiverse. 

"When will I escape this hell?" Nightmare groaned, exasperatedly. He then proceeded to smother his skull with an overly fluffy pillow.

Though the lids of his eyes felt heavier and heavier with the passing hours, sleep still managed to evade the negativity-controlling skeleton. Resentment boiled in his soul- hate for that self-proclaimed 'brother' of his, for the uncomfortably soft bed beneath him, for the damned night-light in the corner of the room; most importantly, hate and jealousy for the Star Sanses. The accursed trio and the buildings other residents had succumbed to slumber ages ago. A peaceful, undisturbed slumber based on the ease in their emotional states. If Nightmare had the strength to spare, he would send each and every one of those idiots a dream containing their deepest, darkest fears. Sadly, he was saving up his energy in hopes of gaining enough power to break free. Meaning: No tormenting the subconsciouses of his foes unless he wanted to prolong his escape. 

A growl tumbled out his throat. His silvery-toned phalanges dug into the pillowy object covering his face, causing the delicate fabric to tear. Channeling his built-up aggression, he swiftly righted himself and chucked the pillow with all his might. It flew to the opposite side of the room. Directly on its course was a pile of stuffed animals, which prevented it from hitting the wall and toppled over when the projectile made contact. One by one, the plush creatures fell to the floor with a light _thud_. Then silence encompassed the room once more. Nightmare simmered. The display was unimpressive and not nearly as therapeutic as he hoped.

_That was anticlimactic._

Suddenly a chilling voice echoed throughout the cheery expanse, with no discernable point of origin. Its tone deep, almost otherworldly and admittedly intimidating as it spoke words only heard in horror movies, "Oh, Nighty, don't you want to play with me? _**A G A M E J U S T F O R T H E T H R E E O F U S**._" _  
_

Nightmare stiffened, unconsciously pulling the sheets closer and wrapping them around himself like a protective barrier. The delicate soul in his chest beat faster with each passing moment. Every following _thump-thump_ it produced, roared in his nonexistent ears and broke the deafening silence shrouding the room. Eyelights darting about, he examined every inch of his rainbow hell, searching and searching for an unseen enemy (or enemies). Alas, it was to no avail. Much to his dismay. The only thing mildly threatening within sight was the damned, beady-eyed stuffed animals- the ones Dream insisted on plaguing him with. However, an unnatural presence hung in the air. An aura that reeked of bloodlust and malice; Not to mention, _LOVE_. The foul kind that symbolized a being's capacity to kill. He was embarrassed to admit that he, Nightmare, Lord of Darkness, felt... _afraid_. Held fear for his life. 

_Are the stuffed animals haunted? Angry that I disturbed their resting place._

_No. Nightmare, don't be stupid. Dream wouldn't put me in danger like this. Would he? He is a self-righteous moralist; if he thought a risky tactic would make me turn over a new leaf, he might try it._ _  
_

Soul pounding, he let the blankets fall away and puffed out his chest. Sweat soon began to form at the base of Nightmare's skull as he donned a (fake) confident and composed expression. A chill crept ever-so-slowly down his spine. Thereafter, a tingling sensation inched across his bones- like the eyes of a predator were meticulously examining him, _their prey_. Smaller bones clinked together, creating a slight rattling sound. Nightmare quelled it by forcing his bones to still. He would not let Dream, or whatever this was, get the best of him; make him show signs of fear. _  
_

"I-if this is some k-kind of crazy attempt t-to scare me into acting nicer, i-it isn't going to work. You hear that, Dream. I-it won't work!" The Guardian of Negativity yelled, false bravado failing him before the first sentence. 

A dark chuckle sounded from the room's four corners. Nightmare sensed a faint trickle of amusement in the hidden being's emotional maelstrom. Barely, though. Between the enmity and bellicosity, it was nigh impossible to detect. Either way, he couldn't decide whether that amusement was a good thing or a very, very bad thing. Judging by the next words they spoke, it sided far beyond very, very bad. "Dream? A dreamer? No, no, no- Here, there is only **_N I G H T M A R E S_**."

At the end of the bed, a shadowy hand arose from the murky depths and clawed at the sheets, causing a horrid ' _sccchhtt'_ sound with each new tear. The Lord of Darkness could have done many things in this situation. For example: screamed at the top of his lungs, flung a barrage of magical attacks at the appendage, or struck it with a pillow. He, unfortunately, did none of the above. Nightmare completely froze up. His bone stiffened like ice, soul pounding dangerously loud in his skull. The few remaining tendrils he had hardened to perform an attack they were currently incapable of doing. Thoughts ran rampant in the frightened skeleton's mind.

_No._

_No._ _  
_

_No._ _  
_

_Dream isn't behind this, is he? He may be an utter creep and morally ambiguous, but he would not do this. Not to me. However, if he isn't, then why hasn't he sensed my negativity and bust open the door to make sure I'm okay?_ _  
_

_That wouldn't matter unless..._ _  
_

_The creature creeping up the bed got to him and the other Star Sanses first._ _  
_

The shock of realizing that no backup was on the way happened to be enough to shake Nightmare out of his stupor. Once motionless bones began to rattle together, echoing throughout the mostly quiet room. Quick puffs of air forced their way out from between his jaws. His soul, the purest essence of his being, relentlessly sounded. _Thump-thump_. _Thump-thump_. _Thump-thump_. And, refused to stop. Fear still resided in Nightmare- along with wariness and apprehension. Emotions such as those were difficult to triumph. _To a mere mortal_. Given who he was, it would be a disgrace to allow his very source of power to determine his downfall. _  
_

With a newfound flame burning for survival, the weakened skeleton summoned a magical construct in his left hand. A razor-sharp bone able to fit comfortably in his hand, similar to a knife. Pinprick small eyelights wavered yet firmly gazed at the appendage encroaching on the bed. He angled the magical blade in its' direction. It had no reaction other than to continue its' creeping ascent. Nightmare warily eyed his foe, conflicted on whether or not he should move closer to strike it. Before he could decide, the appendage quickened its' pace, darting toward him at a frightening speed. In mere seconds, it broke free from the shadows and skittered into the light. The night-light's yellow glow revealed it to be a scarred white skeleton arm with a deep crimson liquid dribbling down the phalanges, ulna, and radius. 

The sinister voice promptly called, "Well, little nightwalker, what is your answer?"

Startled, Nightmare strengthened his grip on the magic weapon, as his trembling hands threatened to drop it. He swiftly raised the blade and aimed at the foreign arm, intent on attacking. While the bone descended, on route for slashing his target's radius, a second hand appeared out of thin air and intercepted the weapon before it was able to connect. The bloody, white phalanges wrapped tightly around his armed hand. They squeezed harshly, preventing Nightmare from pulling his hand away to perform another attack. A strangled sound erupted from his throat as he choked down a shriek. An efforts to escape the strong grasp were to no avail. Nevertheless, that did not stop him from frantically tugging his arm back in a desperate attempt to free it.

During Nightmare's struggle, the first hand planted itself firmly on the bed and started pushing up, causing a figure lurched from the shadows. They screamed, "Do you want to play a game?!"

At the same time, the trapped skeleton howled, " _Funking hell_ _!_ "

In a panic, he used what little magic he had been able to save up to summon two gaster blasters; they charged slowly but steadily, releasing the sharp scent of ozone. Then Nightmare took a moment to examine his soon to be blasted foe. A blazing blue/red eyelight, blood laden jaws, manic grin- _Homicide! It was that bloody Aftertale Sans the whole time._

The demonic dragon skulls gradually fizzled out and vanished into nothingness, and with them went the bone attack he summoned earlier. Negativity's guardian blinked at the insane skeleton, at a loss for words. His posture instantly deflated. Shoulders slackening, captured arm falling limply to the side once the other released it. The wicked pressure bearing down on him disappeared entirely. Almost like it was never there. _  
_

_The boys would love him, especially Killer_ , Nightmare's subconscious begrudgingly added. The little hellkite pulled similar pranks all the time. Notably around the holiday months when monsters and humans were most susceptible to the seemingly supernatural. Several alternate universes even worshipped the void-eyed skeleton's eerie personas: Underswap #XXXX26's legendary Halloween spirit, Deadlock, and Undertale #XXXX53's dreaded Christmas ghoul, Eidolon, and Underfell #XXXX94's horrible hall-haunting hugger, Moor, to name a few. Failing to pay tribute to a respective figure caused terrible 'hauntings' to occur. Harmless stuff like moving furniture a foot left/right, silently lurking in hallways, suddenly hugging people (Underfell residents loathe and fear that), nearly scaring the life out of someone if they were highly disrespectful, and et cetera. Homicide already proved to be extremely skilled in one of those.

Together, Homicide and Killer would be a force to be reckoned with. 

As if the universe were trying to prove that further, his scarer, for whatever ungodly reason, produced two middle phalanges from a coat pocket. Then the skeleton practical shoved them into Nightmare's face and cheerily cried, "Look at what I got!"

If it were possible to crash like Error, he would have. There was just too much to try to comprehend. Numerous thoughts and questions ran through his mind as Homicide proudly displayed his prize. Did the skeleton not understand how grave the situation had been? How close Nightmare got to turning him into a smudge of dust and ash? Where was the other's concept of self-preservation? Why did he have someone else's phalanges, and who did he take them from? A nervous itch tickled the back of his neck. The kind that only happened when Dust, Killer, Horror, or Cross did something exceptionally ill-considered. Coupled with that and Nightmare's tendency to parent his boys, it prompted him to snap and lecture the bloody Sans. "The funk is wrong with you! You're lucky I didn't skewer you alive or blast you into oblivion. Next time, consider the strength of your foe before tormenting them in the middle of the night. It may just save your life." 

A majority of the silvery-boned skeleton's scolding went in one metaphorical ear and out the other. The other monster seemed more preoccupied with considering the first sentence as if it was a legitimate question. "A lot of things- oh, wait, are you talking about the fingers? I don't see a problem with this. It's not like Ink ever used them. Plus, he literally can't give a funk anymore." While snickering, the bloody glitch waved the two amputated digits in the air to emphasize his point. 

Nightmare took a deep breath and sighed. "Homicide, you are a strange, strange skeleton with morals that not even I can comprehend. Join my gang."

_At least if he is one of us, I can keep him out of trouble- or get dragged into it with him._

Homicide drew his finger-clutching hand towards his chest, and a thoughtful expression flashed across his face before becoming unreadable. There was nothing (necessarily) worrying about the emotions coursing through him- mainly mischievousness and pride; a steady hatred for Ink's face, too, for some reason. Perhaps a grudge against Blue as well. _  
_

A roguish smirk settled on the skeleton's jaws, and in a confident tone, he answered in the least expected way possible. "Hmm, no. If anything, _you_ should join my gang- Do you like coffee?"

The guardian's sockets widened slightly. That certainly was an unexpected turnaround: to offer Nightmare a place in his own gang instead of joining Nightmare's. It was so out of nowhere that he couldn't help feeling disbelief. 

_He has a gang?_ Him _, the skeleton who doesn't even know the proper word for 'unicorn'?_

_How?_

_And why is he asking about coffee?_ _  
_

Nightmare's brow scrunched, teeth turned down in a slight frown. "What does that have to do with anything?" _  
_

He honestly wanted to know. Unfortunately, Homicide seemed to be in no mood to tell him. 

"Answer the question!" His surprise recruiter demanded, a subtle growl tumbling out after. 

"Sheesh! Okay, I enjoy coffee every so often. Happy?" The dark lord raised his hands in a symbol of defeat, hoping to placate the crazy Aftertale Sans.

The other grinned and rubbed his hands together, evilly- not unlike that of a cartoon villain. With a devious gleam in his eye sockets, Homicide stated in an ominous tone, " _Very_." 

Nightmare could only shudder and worry about what was to come. 


	5. Gangs and Coffee

**Later, after an elaborate escape that involved toothpaste, a garden hose, and Death.**

Nightmare silently stood in the background, arms crossed, leaning against a wall; His eyelights scanned the new environment. First of all, it was far more visually appealing than the Star Sanses' rainbow seizure hell. And not nearly as blindingly bright or claustrophobic. It was a rather large room. Almost Greek Revival-like in style, but still quite different in design- like someone mashed their favorite architecture types together. High walls stretched more than several feet above. A rich mocha colored them, accented by a cream white wall trim. The ceiling they led to had many decorative wooden roof supports. Brass/copper chains hung on the supports, holding lanterns crafted from the same metal. Each lighting fixture varied in size and held a candle burning with magical flames. 

Coffee and tortilla shaded tiles checkered across the area of the floor. No rugs or carpet adorned the square/rectangle stones. Two curved staircases sat at the back of the room, leading up a small platform with a rounded balcony attached. Hung on the wall behind was an elaborate tapestry. Various things were embroidered into the fabric: Coffee plants, beans, a coffee cup with hot steam wafting off it- Just overall coffee related things. 

The Lord of Darkness turned his attention to the inhabitants of the building. Many different monsters - primarily Sanses and the occasional Papyrus - were bustling about, standing in groups/chatting with each other, or sipping on a fresh cup of coffee. It was a sight to behold; A strange one, at that. Various powerful, intimidating monsters lurked amidst the crowd. He could recognize a few such as Color, Fresh, Death (for obvious reasons), and- Wait, was that Blue? Upon closer inspection, the skeleton did not appear to be the Star Sans; Rather, he was a casually dressed Underswap Sans with a pistol holstered on his side. Nightmare sputtered and did a double-take. Indeed, the Swap skeleton was armed and coolly talking to a Mafiafell Sans. 

_That... is unexpected._

Done staring at the spectacle, he directed his attention elsewhere. An intriguing group stood nearby; A few inches over to be exact. None of the members sparked a hint of recognition in his mind. However, one, in particular, was a dark glitching skeleton that looked similar to the missing destroyer, _Error_. Pitch black attire clothed the other. The hoodie's hood completely covered his skull and shrouded his face, making it impossible for Nightmare to check for tear marks. Error symbols glitched around him, but they were far more subtle than the real Error's. He quietly pondered whether or not his colleague knew of the doppelgänger's existence. Likely not. If Error did, then Nightmare and the gang would have gotten an earful about it. 

A second oddity stood directly to the monster's left: Another male skeleton, who also had bones as dark as onyx and flickering symbols; Unlike his comrade in err, he did not hide a single aspect of his appearance. A wide grin stretched across the other's skull. His yellow/magenta eyelights randomly changed between dots and stars, and little yellow stars rested around his eye sockets (three on the right and one on the left). The color residing behind the nasal cavity and eye sockets was solid blue while the teeth took on a lighter shade. Sky blue, perhaps? Probably not, Nightmare could hardly differentiate white from eggshell white. The second glitch spoke very animatedly with the doppelgänger, waving arms and making hand gestures for emphasis. It was somewhat reminiscent of a Papyrus or Swap Sans. Given the short stature and signature grin, Swap Sans seemed more likely. Especially when factoring in the other's 'battle body.' A primarily black version of Blue's outfit with hints of blue, red, and yellow.

The error Swap glanced to the side and met his eyelights as if he knew Nightmare was staring in his direction. Then, grin widening a fraction further, he winked at the dark lord before taking a step to the side and returned to his conversation with the doppelgänger. A certain feeling of perturbment crept in the background. Unease settled in Nightmare's nonexistent stomach. Those actions could not be anything other than deliberate. No one suddenly decides to wink at a random person in the room. The silvery-boned skeleton shuddered at the realization that, although he was discreet, the monster recognized (perhaps from the very beginning) he had an audience. 

_In a room containing a minimum of fifty monsters, he managed to pick me out of the crowd. Effortlessly, at that._

_I should be cautious around him. He is not the kind of monster I want to make my enemy._

Slowly, Nightmare shifted his gaze to the newly revealed spot. That single step exposed yet another glitchy skeleton: A poor soul that held the expression of a monster who wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and die. 

_How many of these glitches are there? If there are these three - plus Error, where ever he is - then has to be more; each looks like an AU variant of some kind. But that makes no sense. Error has no AU, only the Anti-Void. Do they spawn in the Anti-Void at random then?_

_Does Error even know about them?_

_...That blank hellscape of his is so vast they may have never crossed paths, and he doesn't exactly make a habit of exploring the place._

_Could he have been hiding them from me-_ the gang _and me?_

Nightmare shook his head in an attempt to chase the thought away. No. Just _no_. The destroyer may not be a member of their tight-knit group, but he was still semi-close to them. Enough so that they rely on each other during the occasional battle against the Star Sanses. Besides, Error was too 'in the moment' and rash to be deceitful or sneaky. Information of this nature would have been shared long ago, especially considering how Error loved to rant and rave about abominations. 

He quickly went back to focusing on the new glitchy Sans. Negativity practically encompassed the other's soul. It reeked of self-loathing, resentment, hatred (directed at Error's lookalike for some reason), loss, and _determination_. Instead of black/multicolored bones like the other two, he had sheet-white bones and a splash of crimson caused by the blood dripping from his jaws; colored squares and rectangles glitched to and fro, mainly around his body. A red slash hovered in front of his chest.

_A red slash..._

The Guardian of Negavity's eye sockets widened. _Hold on- This is another Aftertale Sans. Where are they coming from?! A secret experiment gone wrong? An unfinished AU? No. No. There is no way Ink created them. Not with the looming threat of Geno beating him to a pulp and turning him into his namesake._

_Is the Anti-Void making them, too?_

Nightmare frowned and continued to examine the Sans. His red and blue eye sockets were always in motion, ones and zeroes running behind the numeric-shaped eyelights. Green colored binary code danced along the black shirt and shorts beneath his white lab coat. Crimson blood tainted the snow white of his fluffy slippers and trickled on the tile floor below. 

_I feel sorry for the monster that has to clean that up_ , Nightmare thought. 

Suddenly anxiety spiked amidst the valley of emotions. The glitchy skeleton jolted, strange box-shaped glitches shifting in a sporadic, almost painful-looking way. They promptly stepped to the side and returned to hiding behind the Swap error. An odd reaction. However, the other appeared to dislike being surrounded by so many monsters. Not a phobia per se, more like severe apprehension. Nightmare sighed and allowed his gaze to wander from the trio. As much as he would enjoy picking at the monster's fears, it was a pointless endeavor at the current moment and a waste of time. His eyelights flitted from one group of monsters to the next. While unique and unknown to him, none were particularly worthy of further examination; most seemed to be AU variants he had not encountered before. Though, the weird Sans holding a sock puppet and screaming gibberish was mildly amusing. 

The guardian's frown deepened. He would never admit it, but a hint of jealousy arose as he eyed Homicide's mass collection of followers. At least a few hundred dwelled in the enormous building- bustling about, chattering, working together, bring the entire place to life. As a king, his castle should be just like this; full of life and loyal followers. Yet, the opposite held true. His castle - the home of him and his boys - was deathly silent in comparison. The boys played pranks and argued and sparred, but it failed to eliminate the silence lurking in the dark halls.

Maybe that would change once he officially joins Homicide's coffee cult?

A disturbing thought struck Nightmare, _If I am here to join the Mocha Marauders, will I be expected to give up the gang?_

Despite spreading negativity across the Multiverse and killing men, women, and children in cold blood with ease, the notion nearly brought him to tears. The corrupted blob he called a soul clenched painfully at the mere idea. He could not and would not abandon _his boys_. Dust, Killer, Horror, Cross- They needed him. They relied on him. And, as much as he loathed to think it, _I need and rely on them too._

_The Void will overtake the entire Multiverse before I give them up._

The silvery-boned skeleton nodded firmly and began to scour the room for his less than sane acquaintance. He and Homicide had some matters to discuss, chiefly the terms of him joining the Mocha Marauders. Their contract would include everything (within reason) that Nightmare deemed necessary: an agreement beneficial to the boys (indefinite protection or something of the sort), the privilege to keep his gang together, headquarters visitation rights his followers (Stars knew they desperately needed more social interaction), and the ability to borrow fellow Marauders when required. 

Either Homicide complied with those wishes or Nightmare walked- left on the spot without joining the group and vowing to attain vengeance for his (fragile) pride. They were non-negotiable. The Lord of Darkness would sooner kiss Dream than accept anything less; That was saying a lot considering he wouldn't even hug that creep while wearing a hazmat suit. 

His eyelights scanned over the crowds and passersby until they flitted passed a familiar splash of red and white. He immediately backtracked, searching for the iconic colors' source. Between the almost literal monster sea and the vast collection of hues, relocating them turned into a tedious chore, but Nightmare did eventually find the colors again. A silent cheer sounded in his mind when he did so. Unfortunately, while the monster bore the correct color scheme, they were not the one he sought. The Guardian of Negativity bit back an exasperated groan when he realized the skeleton he found was the Aftertale glitch from before. 

_I swear if I find him again instead of Homicide, I will throw him out the nearest window just to be sure I won't see him a third time._

Nightmare spun on his heels, facing in the opposite direction of the Sans to ensure his mistake would be less likely to reoccur. Then the search for Homicide began anew. He gazed upon the valley of monsters for an exceedingly long time until, as luck would have it, he spotted his target. The bloodied skeleton stood along the wall in a mostly uninhabited area, eyelights focused somewhere in the main crowd. Nightmare couldn't help but notice a particular addition to his psychotic recruiter's outfit. A few long, raven-like feathers. The plumage hung just off the end of his raggedy red scarf. 

_Perhaps he took them from Reaper?_

"If you keep staring like that, everyone is going to think you are a bigger creep than me." A hauntingly familiar voice called from the side. 

Nightmare's head swiveled to the left so quickly one might think he got whiplash. 

"Homicide!" He exclaimed, somewhat confused. "But weren't you just," His eyelight flitted back over to the wall, only to find it deserted. Apparently-not-Homicide had vanished. "...over there?"

Homicide raised a brow, frowning slightly. "Hmm? No, I was in the kitchen harassing some weirdo in a top hat and yellow vast, who was trying to make deals with everyone."

_He was there. I know he was there_ \- "Are there any other Aftertale Sanses here, then?"

"Heh, not unless Geno has come to exact his revenge for me stealing Reaper out from under his nose." The other answered nonchalantly, with a shrug of the shoulders.

Nightmare scowled, glancing between Homicide and the empty spot. 

_Either you are pranking me, which is highly likely, or you have an infiltrator hidden amongst your group._


End file.
